


Kings and Queens

by sumnawaz



Category: Blood and Ash Series - Jennifer L. Armentrout
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumnawaz/pseuds/sumnawaz
Summary: Poppy hadn't expected to become the Queen of Atlantia. She wasn't ready for the sudden responsibility, and she could only hope Casteel was ready to take up the role with her.
Relationships: Poppy Balfour/Casteel Da'Neer, Poppy/Casteel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	Kings and Queens

**Author's Note:**

> Obvious spoilers for A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire. all characters belong to Jennifer L. Armentrout.

It felt like some kind of joke, being crowned Queen before even having the chance of becoming a Princess.

The last descendent of the ancient ones. . . Who carries the blood of Nyktos, the King of the Gods. That’s what Casteel’s mother had announced, had declared of me. Her words echoed in my head, my mind desperately trying to make sense of it, but I’d given up for now. I was too tired, too confused to understand the news of my supposed heritage—had barely listened to Queen Eloana when she explained after what happened in the chambers.

_ Former _ Queen Eloana, I supposed. 

How was I supposed to do this? Be a queen? I spent too much of my life hidden behind a veil unwillingly, unable and not allowed to simply talk to others unless I had permission—I don’t know what that had anything to do with any of this, but it surely didn’t assist in any way of me ruling an entire kingdom.

An entire kingdom teeming with many who more or less hated me. How could anyone accept me as their queen?

Distantly, I heard the click of the bedchamber door shutting, yet the tension in my shoulders didn’t ease as I remained where I stood on the balcony. The sun was setting, painting the sky in beautiful hues of pink and purple, the cool breeze tickling my skin as I looked over the expanse of the land. Atlantia, from what I’d seen so far, was stunning. A city in its own right with plenty of greenery and flora to add to its beauty. A kingdom for me to rule.

The panic and disbelief was ever present as I heard the soft footsteps behind me, a reminder that despite the knot in my chest because of how overwhelmed I felt, I wasn’t doing this alone.

But the question that swam in my head, more so violently than any other, was if Casteel wanted to rule, too.

The throne, from what he had declared—from what he believed—belonged to Malik. All of his efforts for years went into bringing his brother home, rescuing him from the captivity of the Ascended, so Malik could return to his rightful place as the King of Atlantia. It was why Casteel fought against his parents’ tragic belief that there was nothing left of Malik to rescue, why he fought against everyone else’s belief that his brother wouldn’t be fit to be king. Casteel didn’t  _ want _ to be king, from what he had told me. But he was now. And it was because of me.

Not because he’s the son of Eloana and Valyn, but because my bloodline, according to the laws, usurped any other. Because the blood of the gods ran through my veins, and that alone meant the crown, the throne, the kingdom was mine. The one thing that summoned a ball of dread in the pit of my stomach—and it was mine.

And now, because he was my husband, Casteel got the throne he had been adamant on denying. Knowing how he had felt about being king was enough to aggravate my nerves, to make my stomach twist as the deep trenches of my insecurities opened up once more, after I thought I’d sealed them once and for all, as I started wondering if there would be any kind of resentment on his part. The reasonable part of me told me I was being ridiculous, that such an idea had no merit, yet it still festered. It still made me worry, despite knowing how he felt about me, despite knowing what we shared was real and bigger than any crown.

“Am I interrupting?”

I glanced over my shoulder to see him slowly approach, ready to turn if I chose to be alone. But I didn’t. So I smiled, small and tired, giving a shake of my head from where I stood with my arms folded on top of the polished wooden railing. “No,” I told him, watching as he closed the distance to come and stand to my right.

The golden rays of the setting sun hit him as he copied my position, and despite the uneasy thoughts in my head, I let myself admire the sight of him. He’d washed his face and changed his clothes, ridding the stains of the blood rain that had fallen earlier, just as devastating as always. Amber eyes glowed against the setting sunlight, the gentle breeze an invitation for the slightly damp curls toppling across his forehead to dance. 

His gaze cut to me then and I did not shy away, and I watched as his eyes took in the injury on my forehead from where the rock had hit. The blood had been wiped off and all that remained was a cut that hadn’t been too deep and a bruise surrounding it, and a dull ache that added on as a reminder. 

Casteel’s gaze hardened, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he shifted to lean on his right elbow against the railing. He eyed the injury with a frozen rage on his taut features. And I knew, without a doubt, if those who had inflicted the injury still breathed, Casteel would’ve ensured that they didn’t any longer.

I tried not to think about the mangled, contorted bodies from my doing. Yet another thing to invite along a headache.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked quietly, the anger in his eyes giving way to concern.

The smile on my lips remained, softening under his gaze. “I am,” I promised. Casteel had offered, more than once, to give me his blood to heal the wound, only stopping when I told him it was unnecessary. It wasn’t as though it was a life threatening injury, despite the way Casteel eyed it. I would live, so Casteel had relented—especially since he’s already given his blood to me more than once. I wondered if he sometimes forgot he wasn’t just a drink I could enjoy whenever I received the slightest of injuries. 

“No head injury is  _ slight _ , Poppy,” Casteel had said exasperatedly when I’d told him as such. It still hadn’t changed my opinion.

No matter how decadent his blood tasted.

I looked back out at the land before us, well aware of his stare still on me, feeling it warm my skin more so than the sun could. “What are you thinking?” he inquired gently, like he knew of all the thoughts drowning me from the inside.

I linked my fingers together, admiring the way the setting sun glinted against the gold band of my wedding ring. I never tired of looking at it, and I wondered how many times Casteel, with his ever so watchful gaze, caught me doing just that. “I’m thinking. . .” I began, hoping to clear my head a bit. A breathy chuckle escaped me, humorless. “I’m thinking of how I never saw any of this coming,” I admitted, steering this conversation in the direction it needed to go.

Next to me, Casteel let out a low chuckle of his own. “You and me both.”

I chewed on my lower lip for a moment, scrounging up the courage to ask what I’d been wanting to since his mother’s declaration. Gods, it felt like days ago when his mother said what she had, when the truth of the matter was that it happened mere hours ago. Hours that had been filled with questions and insight on the wolven’s reaction to me, on the blood tree that had grown where my blood had spilled—on the reality that I wasn’t a blessed child of gods, but a descendent of one. Of the King of Gods. 

Shit.

I chanced a glance at Casteel, catching the way he was now looking out ahead, body still facing me. The cut of his jaw wasn’t entirely relaxed, eyes just barely squinting against the sun, and I knew I couldn’t keep my musings to myself. Knew I needed to talk to him about this before I let my own thoughts drive me crazy.

“Are you okay with this?” I blurted, a question more vague than necessary. Casteel looked at me once more, the slight furrow of his eyebrows speaking to his confusion, not entirely understanding what I was asking of him. “With. . . With being King.”

He tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I shrugged, feeling the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped from my braid graze my cheeks as they danced with the breeze. “You told me you didn’t want to be king, Casteel,” I reminded him with a swallow of my dry throat. “That—that Malik was to take the throne. You refused it for years.” All of this he knew. “But the law says I’m Queen, according to my bloodline, so you’re going to end up on the throne anyway. Are you—” I sighed, eyes locking with his. “Are you okay with that?”

He hadn’t wanted it. He had wanted it for his brother. And now he had no choice, did he? My insecurities clawed at me relentlessly, dreading any resentment he may feel. But I knew him—I knew better. I knew, in my heart, that Casteel wouldn’t feel the way I worried he would. He wasn’t like that. And yet, I still found myself needing to hear it from him.

Understanding seemed to dawn on his features, eyebrows flicking up as his lips parted to take in a breath. I think he may have seen the worry that pulled at my features, unsurprising because of how observing he was, of how well he knew me, because he took a step towards me. His frame towered over me, something that always made me stomach dip as I tilted my head to look up at him.

“Poppy,” he started, my name ever so lovely from his lips. His mouth tipped up slightly, just barely hinting at a dimple. “Of course, I’m okay with it.”

I wish my mind could be so easily convinced. “Are you  _ sure _ ?”

A gentle chuckle escaped him, hand reaching up to curl his finger around the loose tendril of my hair. His gaze, however, stayed on mine. “I know just how much I’ve rejected the idea of me becoming king,” Casteel spoke. “But that was always because I thought it was Malik’s right, not my own.” His eyes softened, something I knew was mostly only reserved for myself—and it was something I cherished—as his knuckles brushed against my cheek. “But your bloodline states that the crown is  _ your _ right, not mine or Malik’s. And if I have to be King, I’m more than willing to take up the job if it means ruling beside you. There’s no question about it.”

My heart swelled, throat tightening as his words had more of an effect than I anticipated. The relief his answer brought easily got rid of the tension that had tightened my muscles, shoulders sinking as a smile tilted at my lips. There wasn’t any doubt that Casteel would help me, would be right by my side during this unexpected time—but the reassurance was something I didn’t know I needed yet appreciated all the same. I had been nervous over the idea of becoming a Princess—being a Queen was something I was wholly unprepared for.

But Casteel. . . He grew up in this life, he was already a natural born leader. He would know what to do. He would help me—that I had no doubt about.

I lifted my hand to free his finger from being curled around my lock of hair, before threading our fingers together as I peered up at him, his hand dwarfing mine. His brilliant amber eyes never failed to relinquish me of my breath, though I managed a smile, sincere and grateful. With a light chuckle, I admitted what we both already knew breathlessly, “I did not see this coming.”

“Neither did I,” Casteel murmured. “But we’ll figure it out. Day by day.” He pulled me towards him, free arm wrapping around my shoulder as I pressed my cheek against his chest, feeling the hard muscles under the soft tunic. His familiar lush spice and pine scent embraced me. Casteel pressed a kiss to the top of my head as he finished, “Together, my Queen.”

Despite the flutter in my stomach at his words, I scoffed as my own arm snaked around his waist. “Oh, Gods.” With a grin, I added teasingly, “Just when I was getting used to you calling me Princess.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, the kind that brought out both dimples, as he hummed, “I’ve come to realize  _ Queen _ is more fitting.” I knew he didn’t just mean in the legal terms of it all. “Queen Penellaphe Da’Neer—has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

The pride and smugness mixed in his tone, widening my grin, sending those butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy as I held him to me, gaze still out on the land before us. Land we both ruled. Despite the uncertainty of it all, a calm settled over me, provided by the comfort of Casteel’s presence and words, letting his statement settle into me, into my bones. 

So I smiled, eyes shutting, letting myself focus on only him and how it felt to be wrapped up in him, reveling in the peace of his embrace. “That it does, your Majesty.”

  
  



End file.
